


New Man

by make_this_feel_like_home



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-07
Packaged: 2018-10-29 07:36:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10849422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/make_this_feel_like_home/pseuds/make_this_feel_like_home
Summary: Louis Tomlinson is newly single for the first time in his adult life. He's just ended his relationship with his uni-sweetheart and things are messy to say the least. Zayn has never been good at coping, so when he flaunts his new man to Louis, Louis is less than surprised. He knows it's not going to last. Harry has horrible taste in food, drinks beer but inexplicably has a six-pack, owns the ugliest boots known to man-kind and has a really kind heart. Louis shouldn't still be so tangled up in his old life, and he definitely shouldn't be having regular conversations with his ex's new boyfriend... but things are messy.OrThe one where Louis falls for his old man's new man.





	New Man

**Author's Note:**

> This was obviously inspired by Ed Sheeran, because everything I do is inspired by him. This idea was born after seeing a relentless amount of jokes floating around the internet that the song New Man was clearly about Harry. I saw in an interview Ed was talking about how when a relationship ends, there's always the new man--not the one that sticks, just the one people use to pretend they're okay. And that's how this idea came to life. 
> 
> Thanks to my bestie temporary_fix for always being my soundboard and talking me through everything I get stuck on. You da bomb <3

_Eight weeks after_

Louis had woken up on Niall's couch for the third time that week. He'd been couch-surfing for two months and it was all getting a bit exhausting by this point. There was probably no way he would be able to afford a place on his own, which was why half of his paycheques were still going toward the apartment he hadn't slept in for two months. Zayn couldn't afford it on his own, and Louis, ever the nice guy, wanted to make this whole breaking up business a little bit less miserable than it tended to be. That and his precious baby, a two year old Irish Setter that he and Zayn had gotten together to try and fill their gaps, was still living there and Louis only wanted the best possible life for Harley.  

He'd been told a time or two that he wasn't really doing this break up thing right. That he wasn't bitter or hurt enough and he was way too willing to help, but it was just the way it was. Sure, Louis had spent his fair share of nights crying over Zayn, but most have them had been during their six years together. He'd grown up. He'd changed and there was really no denying that fact. The problem with meeting someone on the first day of university was that change happened. It was supposed to happen. It was the nature of life.  

Six years was a lot to spend with the same person and Louis had probably been at least six different people from the beginning to the end and parts of him were surprised that Zayn had stuck around long enough to witness all those versions of himself.  

But, Zayn had changed too. The problem was that they'd changed in such different ways and they wanted such different things. Zayn was still running wild and Louis was ready to settle down. He wanted the boring typical things that Zayn scoffed at.  

They just didn't fit anymore, and while that hurt a lot sometimes, Louis took it for what it was.    
 

Niall plunked himself down on the couch next to Louis. Louis groaned a bit as Niall threw his legs over him and got comfortable. Niall liked to snuggle way too much.  

"What's up Nialler?" 

"Promise you're still coming out tonight?" Asked Niall in a way that made Louis suspicious.  

"Why wouldn't I?" 

"Just promise, ya cunt," whined Niall.  

Louis shrugged, "yeah I'll come out," 

"Good," said Niall, draping his arm around Louis shoulder, "now, good news or bad news first?" 

Louis sighed heavily. He knew something was up, "good," 

"We're gonna get right fucked up tonight and I'm making you sing Spice Girls with me," 

Louis rolled his eyes, "that's not good news," 

"Now for the bad," said Niall, kissing Louis' temple. Louis really wanted to push Niall off of him, but he also secretly loved his best friend's affinity for snuggly affection. "Zayn has a new boyfriend," Niall dropped the words into the room like he thought they were a grenade.  

Louis processed it for moment before he spoke, "I figured that would happen soon," 

Niall looked him over thoroughly before he spoke again, "you don't seem upset," 

"I mean, I am but I'm not," sighed Louis, successfully making zero sense. "Someone had to do it first and I guess it sucks a bit that it's him, but what can I say? We're over. I ended it," 

.... 

It was finally time for Louis, Niall and Liam to leave Liam's flat and head to the pub. Louis had the weekend off, and honestly he loathed it. The days always dragged by for him and he wished that weekends off were not a part of his rotation. He was a nurse and quite honestly he'd be just as happy to work seven days a week so he'd have less time to sit around thinking about how empty things had become.  

Of course, it was still _better_. Waking up next to someone he felt no connection to had definitely run its course. It was still strange though, after so many years of drinking the coffee Zayn made that he'd initially always found too strong and was so used to that he found every other sort of coffee too weak, but he was making it work. He missed always having someone around but he was realizing that it was more a question of 'someone' and not so much Zayn specifically.   

By the time he, Niall and Liam got to the pub the place was packed. There was a girl standing on the stage giving a really heartfelt performance of "save a horse ride a cowboy" (people still listened to that song?) and Louis was already five beers in and feeling a whole lot less bitter about his days off. That was until he saw Zayn waving at them from a booth. He wasn't alone and while Niall had prepared him for this fact, it still rubbed him the wrong way.  

Niall grabbed his elbow and spoke into his ear, "his name is Harry and he's hipster as fuck. I give it a month," 

"I'll give it six," countered Louis.  

"That's generous,"  

"I know the boy better than you lot. He can't be alone," 

It was a harsh critique but it was also accurate. The three phone calls a week he got from Zayn either drunk or crying or both, could attest to that fact. 

He sighed and led the way over to the table. Might as well get this over as fast as he could. It was going to happen because he and Zayn weren't even approaching that place where they would stop speaking. He didn't see that anywhere in the near future, which was fine because even though he was certain the end of their relationship had been in both of their best interests, he couldn't quite bring himself to picture his life without Zayn. He was still too much a part of him.  

The other part of reality was that it had been Louis that had seen all of these things first. While it might have been taking Zayn a little bit longer to come to terms with these facts, Louis felt certain he'd see them eventually, and Louis'd probably miss him. He'd probably miss him a whole lot because 6 years to someone who was only 24 was a lifetime. It was his entire adult life. And so what if Zayn was trying to fill the void Louis had left with hipster trash? Louis would rebound, too. It was the nature of these sorts of things.  

Louis stood a foot away from the table, waving awkwardly at Zayn, because instead of paying attention to the boy who's hand was on his lap, he was shooting Louis the most pained eyes in the world. And that was a thing about Zayn, he'd always had the kind of eyes that spoke more than anything he said (Zayn never spoke—at least not before it had ended, now all he did was speak). His brown eyes were heavy with sadness and Louis felt kind of bad for the hipster lad, because, Jesus, Zayn, _if_ _you_ _'_ _re_ _gonna_ _fake it, do a better job._ At least pretend a bit better.  

Maybe 6 months _was_ generous.  

Niall finally broke the stare down that Louis and Zayn were engaged in by pushing Louis into the booth. He followed and draped his arm around Louis' shoulder—again Louis balanced on the tip of the sword of hating and craving Niall's affection.  

"So this must be the Harry we're heard so much about," said Liam as he slid in next to Niall. 

Louis looked at him then, actually really looked at him and took in the hipster sight before his eyes. It was 12 at night, but for some unknown reason, he had a pair of sunglasses pearched on top of his head. Like that wasn't enough, though, they were the most hipster possible sunglasses with ridiculous shaped white frames. But that wasn't it, because just behind the glasses, on the top of his head was the man bun to end all man buns. Louis was really trying not to just hate this boy for existing, but it was hard.  

He knew Zayn would do this. Louis felt like he had been pretty prepared for this moment. When relationships ended, there was always the new man. It was bound to happen. Harry wasn't going to be the new _boyfriend_. He wasn't going to be the one to replace Louis and he wasn't going to be the one who would suddenly make Zayn want to co-parent or grow up. He wasn't going to be the one that Zayn's parents liked better. He was just there to fill a space. He was a placeholder and a pretty thing Zayn could flaunt to himself and the rest of the world to prove he was okay.  

But Louis kind of hated him anyway, and it wasn't the fact that he was _with_ Zayn. That had very little to do with it, no matter what Zayn or anyone else would think. He didn't like him because he could imagine him laughing with all his other hipster friend while they sipped craft beer and listened to Ministry albums on their vintage record players. He probably loved kale more than he'd ever love Zayn. It was all wrong. And Louis knew it was all wrong, but he hated it anyway.  

Mostly he didn't like how it made Zayn look. Louis had no interest in a new man. He wanted to learn to be on his own in a way he'd never been since being an adult. Zayn was the opposite. He couldn't be alone and Louis hated that about him. Underneath it all Zayn was a pretty fantastic person, but his insecurities ran too deep. He was desperate for something, anything, to fill the spaces Louis had left but he was a brick wall. He hid behind his fears and Louis had to wonder how long Harry was going to be able to handle that. Probably not for 6 years.  

Probably not for 6 months. 

He realized then that he had gapped out of the conversation for too long because hipster Harry had his hand stuck out toward him and he was expecting Louis to shake it back. His hand was covered in a stupid amount of rings that all clicked against each other loudly. There was so much metal on his hand that Louis wondered if just plugging something into an outlet would be considered a major hazard for him. Along with the rings was a collection of pointless tiny tattoos that began on his hands and ran up his wrists and as far up his arm that Louis could see. Begrudgingly, Louis took Harry's hand and shook it quickly. 

"Hi, Louis," he said with a smile.  

Louis tried really, really hard to smile but it probably came out as a scowl.  

"Nice to meet you, Harry," 

 

Two more beers into the night, Louis left the group to piss. Liam and Niall were still sitting with Zayn at the table and Harry had fucked off to talk to some hipster friends. Louis had been welcoming the break.  

While he was washing his hands, he heard the door open. He checked in the mirror and saw Zayn standing in the doorway, watching him with his kicked puppy eyes. Louis exhaled loudly and shut off the tap.  

Zayn tried to smile, but it had no effect on his eyes, "Hey Lovey,"  

Something stirred in the pit of Louis' stomach. It was guilt and pity. He didn't want to watch Zayn like this. He wanted him to be okay and knowing he was the one that made him into this sad pathetic thing was a touch more guilt than Louis really wanted to deal with.  

Zayn had been calling Louis "Lovey" for more years than he could remember. When things had first started in uni, Zayn had complained that there wasn't any good nicknames for Louis that didn't make him sound like a creepy old man. At first, he'd exclusively called him "love" but he'd added the extra bit awhile later, combining Louis' name with the endearment.  

Now it was just kind of sad and haunting and Louis really didn't like hearing it and seeing the empty look in Zayn's eyes.  

"Hey, Zee," 

Internally he kicked himself for sounding so soft. He wanted to be better at this. He wanted to be better at being apart and staying apart but he was mucking it all up.  

Zayn ran his fingers through his hair and stared at the ground, "How've you been?" It looked like he was asking the ground, not Louis. Zayn was always doing this. Always cornering him and demanding things of him that Louis didn't really know how to deal with.  

"Good," said Louis, soft, still soft, more concerned with hurting Zayn than with anything else, "really good," and there was that kicked puppy face again. "How have you been?" 

"Lonely," 

And here it was. He was doing it again and Louis was still sure he'd made the best decision for both of them, but he didn't have a clue how to make Zayn see that.  

"I'm lonely all the time, Louis. I miss you," 

"Don't do this," Louis practically begged.  

"Don't do what, Louis? Be honest with you? I'm sorry if it's not fucking convenient that I haven't got a clue how to stop being in love with you," 

There were tears right behind his sad brown eyes and Louis wanted to run before they started to fall, but that wasn't fair, either, was it?  

"Zee, stop,"  

The were tears ready and willing to fall and Louis needed to find a way to beat them. He needed to say the right thing before it was too late and before he couldn't stop them.  

"Just stop, okay? I don't want to see you like this," 

"Then fix it, Louis. _You_ broke me," 

"Jesus Zayn, that's hardly fair," 

"You can say whatever you want about me, but I was never going to end it. I was never ready to let you go—to give up on you. That's you, Louis," 

Louis was about to say something with depth and perspective or something, but thankfully Niall saved his life. He charged into the bathroom, loud and drunk and brushed passed Zayn, probably guessing exactly what was going on but making no mention of it.  

"Lads," he greeted them, moving toward the urinal. It looked like Zayn's train of thought hadn't been interrupted at all, and he was about to say something else to Louis before Niall spoke again.  

"Zayner, Harry's out there looking for you," 

Louis raised his eyebrows at Zayn, daring him to argue. He'd brought Harry here. Harry was _his_ boyfriend. He should have been paying more attention.  

He didn't want to though. 

"Go," said Louis, and to his surprise, Zayn listened and left the loo, leaving Louis to gather his wits.  

   
 

 _11_ _weeks_ _after_  

 

The first time Louis honestly had a conversation with Harry, it was not really his intention to do so. Liam had been on holiday and Louis was staying at his flat. Niall had been working a lot and Louis had too many days off. He was bored and sick of everything Netflix had to offer him.  

So, he'd decided to head over to Zayn's to pick up Harley and take her for a walk. His intention wasn't to see Zayn and it certainly wasn't to find that Zayn was at work and Harry was there alone, but intent was irrelevant because now he was standing awkwardly in the doorway, trying to find Harley's leash while Harry watched him. Harley jumped around happily in his presence and Louis wished she would just calm down so this could go a little faster. 

Harry was still watching him and this whole thing was so many levels of awkward that Louis felt like he had to address it.  

"Sorry," he said stupidly. He was pretty certain that Harry wasn't a fan of the fact that Louis was still lingering around Zayn. It was probably a huge source of tension for them, and even though Louis didn't take him seriously, he still wanted to afford him basic decency.  

Harry just shrugged.  

"I probably should have called or something first," 

Harry smiled kindly, "it's fine, Louis. She's your dog, you're allowed to come see her,"   
 

It was a strange thing, all together. He still wasn't used to this new chapter in his life and being without Zayn was still something he was trying to learn to do, but adding this new man into the mix? It was weird.  

What did Harry think of this whole thing? It must have been so strange trying to be with a guy who frankly didn't give a fuck—didn't know _how_  to give a fuck—and trying to work the ex boyfriend into the mix. Louis was there. He was still there a lot. He still payed half of the rent and he was still on the other end of Zayn's sad drunken calls. It must have been awful to be Harry in this. It was hard enough for Louis to figure out his own role.  

 

And to his dismay—or was it relief?—Zayn wasn't back yet when Louis returned to drop Harley back off. Part of him almost preferred to face Harry.  

While he hung up the leash, Harry hovered a few feet away. He really wanted to know how Harry felt. He wanted him to know that Louis wasn't a threat. The only real threat here was that Zayn was trying to be someone else and Harry would never be the right guy for him.  

"I, uh," Louis started, "just want you to know I'm not trying to intrude. It's just, it's a really weird situation, you know? But I'm, like, not trying to get him back. I just want him to be okay," 

Harry nodded and calmly smiled at Louis, "I know, I'm not worried. It's still new. I'm still new. We'll figure it out," 

"So you're not fussed with me always hanging around? That doesn't bug you?" 

Harry shook his head, "no, I get it. You guys have a history. He loved you for a long time and I can't change that," he shrugged, "but just because he loved you doesn't mean he can't love someone else one day," 

And okay, hipster Harry was part philosopher. Surprising.  

 

 _12 weeks_ _after_  

Louis was pacing around the break room at work, practically burning a hole through the floor. It was approaching two in the morning and as if Louis didn't hate the night shift enough, it was apparently Zayn's mission to make his night worse. This was the sixth time he'd called since 10:30 and Louis _finally_ had a break from dealing with a whole floor of children with a violent stomach flu, and now he got to deal with this.  

He didn't want to answer, of course. He wanted Zayn to get over it. He wanted to be like the sort of parent who let their child cry until they learned to self-soothe, but Zayn had been crying a long time and Louis had kind of missed that boat. He wasn't learning to self-soothe—he was just making himself and Louis crazy. So on call number seven, Louis gave up the tough parent gig and accepted the call.  

"Louis?" Zayn said before Louis could think of how to start this conversation.  

"Mm," he said in acknowledgement, "what's up, Zayn, 'm at work,"  

"I just needed to talk,"  

Louis could see his sad eyes without being anywhere near him. This was going to be exhausting.  

"Talk about what?" He stopped pacing and pulled out a chair, thanking the gods that he was the only one in the room about to be a witness to Zayn's pathetic display.  

"Us," As good of a dancer as Louis was (which he wasn't at all—he was just normally a touch better than Zayn), he knew he wouldn't be able to dance around this. At least this time Zayn didn't sound drunk. Maybe there was still some logic left in him that Louis could dig for.  

"Zee,"  

Zayn's voice edged on hysterical, but he tried to fight against it to deliver his speech, "you lied to me,"  

"What are you trying to say?"  

"You told me you loved me. You told me every single day for six years but you were _lying_. Do you have any idea how much that hurts?" his last word was punctuated with a sob.  

"Zayn," Louis said softly, "I didn't lie to you,"  

 _"Yes you did_ _,"_   

"That's not _fair_ ," Louis was already exhausted. He couldn't do this.  

"What's not fucking fair is that you let me believe we were infinite but you weren't willing to put in the effort. I don't care how bad it was, you were it for me, Louis. I never wanted this and you never even gave me a choice. You never let me fight for you,"  

Okay, that wasn't fair. As sad and broken as Zayn might of been, he was wrong. Now Louis just felt angry. How long was it going to take Zayn to see that there had been nothing left to fight for?  

"The last two years were me fighting to stay in something I knew was dead, Zayn. You feel asleep next to me every single night but I was _alone_. You made me feel alone and I'm not blaming you, but you don't want the things I want. I'm not the same kid I was in uni. I want to be a grown up now. I want things you don't want. _We stopped fitting._ That doesn't make me a liar,"  

"So that's it, then? Things get hard, you give up and I'm just supposed to be alright with that? I wake up every single day alone and it fucking sucks, Louis. I miss you all the time and I don't know how I'm supposed to get used to that. I don't know how I'm supposed to accept the fact that you didn't mean it when you said you loved me. You weren't in it for the long-haul. I just feel like rubbish. How could you take back the promises you made me for so many years?"  

"I didn't take back anything, Zayn," Louis was trying not to sound angry, but he hated these accusations, "we're different people now. That doesn't make me a liar. You don't want what I want and that's not going to change if we force ourselves to stay together. You could be happy without me,"  

"Bullshit,"  

"I can't do this right now, Zayn,"  

"There's never a good time, is there, Louis? You never want to face up to what you did to me. I've never hurt like this Louis, fuck convenience, you told me you loved me and then you took it back. _You broke me,_ "  

"Jesus, Zayn, I didn't take it back, okay? I did love you, I _do_ love you, but it's not the same. It's not _enough_ ,"  

" _I'm_ not enough," Zayn rephrased Louis words like they were weapons.  

Louis exhaled loudly and checked the time. He'd already wasted his entire break on this.  

"I have to go back to work,"  

"Fuck you, Louis,"  

 

 _4 months after_  

Louis didn't really like the fact that he somehow seemed to always be squeezed into situations where he intruded on Harry. It was becoming a horrible habit of his and he felt bad about that. He really didn't want Harry to think he was stuck in the past and couldn't let go. That wasn't his intention. But it really always _looked_ like that.  

This time he'd dropped by Zayn's to pick up a couple of his shirts and drop off his rent cheque. He still had a key, but it felt really wrong to use it, so he'd knocked on the door. Zayn must have been working a lot more than usual, because Louis always seemed to show up when he wasn't there. Harry opened the door and smiled kindly at him. To date, every time he'd seen Harry, his hair had been tied back in a bun, but today it hung freely and passed his shoulders. It was nice to see him down a hipster level.  

As Louis passed Harry to dig through Zayn's closet he realized, again, just how intrusive this whole thing was. He met Harry back in the living room, once again hoping to apologize.  

"I'm trying to find my own place, you know?" He started, "it's just a fucking shit show. I'll move my stuff soon,"  

Harry was relaxing on the couch now. He watched Louis as he spoke, his whole demeanour relaxed and laid back. "I get it," he gestured to the chair across from him, telling Louis to sit down and have a longer conversation. "London is impossible. It took me years of flatmates before I even got a _look_ at my flat. I'm never leaving,"  

Louis chuckled and nodded, "the whole thing just seems so hopeless,"  

"You'll find something I'm sure,"  

Louis nodded, not really feeling all that confident. He sat with his hands on his knees, which he bounced up and down with discomfort. He didn't know why he was sitting here with Zayn's trophy boyfriend trying to have a real conversation.  

"But how are things, anyway? How's Zayn?" If Louis was here, he might as well jump head-first.  

Harry always wore a calm smile, "good. Really good—I think..." he met Louis' gaze, "it's hard to tell. He doesn't really talk much,"  

"He never has,"  

Louis left out the part where he probably didn't talk much to Harry because he spent hours out of his week vomiting feelings all over Louis. Zayn really had nothing to give someone else, and the more times Louis was forced into these strange situations with Harry, the more he felt bad about that. Maybe Harry deserved a little better.  

"Anyway," said Harry, a strange look on his face that Louis hadn't seen before, "are you coming out tonight? Niall said he was going to convince you,"  

Louis scratched Harley behind her ear, happy to divert his attention anywhere else, "don't know. Maybe,"  

The reality was, Louis was confused why Harry was asking anyway. Surely he was nearly at his breaking point for tolerance of Louis. He probably wanted a night out with his boyfriend without Louis tagging along.  

"Everyone wants you to come. My mates are coming too, it'll be fun,"  

"I might," said Louis.  

 

And he did, because Niall Horan was nothing if not the most convincing human being on earth. That, and, Louis quite honestly liked the pub a good bit. His life was pretty boring, mostly, so going out now and then was kind of all he had (aside from being a homeless drifter).  

Of course, by the time he and Niall arrived Zayn was already pretty much toast. He could hardly stand and he mostly used Harry to support himself. Louis and Niall managed to ignore the spectacle for most of the night, but as it goes, it eventually found Louis—well, 50% of it, anyway.  

Louis was standing at the bar, trying to get someone's attention because tonight was strange. Niall was hitting on every girl in sight, Liam was still away and Zayn was more of a mess than he or anyone else would ever have willingly signed up for. So he was kind of on his own—which didn't really matter, he supposed. He was fine on his own.  

But soon, from behind him he heard Harry's voice call out to the bartender. He responded to Harry quickly, which was more than a little bit annoying. Harry was stood next to Louis now, and leaning across the bar to tell the bartender his order.  

"Coming right up, Harry," he said, and of-fucking-course Harry was mates with the bartender. How hip of him.  

The man returned in half a second and handed Harry two pints, waving off Harry as he tried to pay for them. Louis' eyes nearly rolled back into his head. 

"Please tell me one of those is _not_ for Zayn," said Louis, unable to keep his judgment of their entire relationship under wraps for another second.  

"Nah," said Harry, extending one of the glasses to Louis, "looked like you needed a hand," 

Louis kind of hated a lot of things about Harry, but he especially hated that he never knew what to expect of him. He was always so quick to be kind and it really didn't make sense. And being nice wasn't very _hip_ anyway, now was it? 

"Thanks, I guess," 

Harry raised an eyebrow, "you're welcome, _I guess_ ," he mocked.  

Louis laughed at that and stared at the ground so Harry couldn't see how much he enjoyed a good bit of banter. As soon as his eyes met the floor, they were immediately pulled toward a horrifying sight. There, on Harry's feet were the most god awful pair of shoes Louis may have seen in his entire twenty-four years on this earth. They were boots... which, okay, was pretty typical of Harry, but these? They were so much more than just _boots._ They were metallic and the ugliest possible shade of green. All that was bad enough, but on top of the metallic green was a big fat Union Jack. They were quite literally the ugliest bit of footwear Louis had ever had the misfortune of seeing. 

"What in God's name is on your feet?" He demanded then, looking back up to Harry.  

Harry still had a friendly smile and was probably completely oblivious to the fact that Louis was appalled by his shoes.  

"You like?" He asked, his dimple popping.  

Louis' eyebrow shot up, "those are the ugliest boots I've ever seen in my life," he deadpanned.  

Harry looked like he'd just been punched in the stomach, "they're Gucci," he said like it had any bearing on the fact that they were atrocious.  

"That doesn't mean they're not ugly," 

Harry scoffed, "forgive me if I don't jump at the fashion advice of someone who wore Vans and an _Adi_ _das_ jumper to the bar."  

He said Adidas like it was the largest crime against fashion in history. And that was it. That was the moment that Louis cracked. He laughed hard, trying to take a sip of his beer to have a momentary break from the fact that Harry had matched his reaction perfectly. He was standing at the bar with Zayn's new man and laughing harder than he remembered laughing in a long time. It was all fucking strange. Every minute of the last four months had been strange.  

"Insulting my jumper is not going to make your boots any less ugly, you know," 

"Well, it made _me_ feel better," said Harry, taking a sip of his own pint.  

It was kind of stupid. Standing here at the bar, insulting each other playfully and sipping on beer while Zayn was black out drunk somewhere else without either of them. Harry was annoying in a lot of ways. He always had the most ridiculous outfits and Louis had over-heard Zayn talking about his [£](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pound_sign)500 jeans more than one time. Harry was pretty ridiculous in a lot of ways. It was also exceedingly annoying that he was sporting a perfect six-pack while guzzling dozens of pints every single weekend. 

"What do you even _do,_ anyway?" Louis didn't mean for it to sound like such an accusation, so he tried to explain himself, "I mean, what do you do that gives you the disposable income for Gucci?" 

Harry smiled from behind his glass, and it was strange that Louis even knew he was smiling without being able to see his mouth—but that was something to over-think at a later date, "I work at a Gucci shop," 

Well, of course. 

One of Harry's mates approached him them and he nodded a goodbye to Louis as he followed after him. Louis thanked him quickly for the beer and watched as his ugly boots clicked away.  

Louis had pretty much had his fill of pub-life for the night. He was ready to head back to Liam's and curl up in an actual bed (he was really sick of couches). He just needed to find Niall. He scanned the front of the pub from his place at the bar, but there was no sign of Niall's tell-tale blonde hair or his booming voice. Louis sighed. Maybe he was in the loo.  

As Louis pushed through the crowd of people and downed the last bit of his beer he looked for Niall. There were girls everywhere and he shocked that Niall wasn't following each of them around like a puppy. He stopped short, though, when just a couple feet away from the door with "lads" written on it, he saw Zayn. _Zayn_ with his tongue down some bloke's throat. Some bloke that was _not_ wearing those god awful Gucci boots. Some bloke who was not Harry at all. Louis cleared his throat as loudly as he could. Maybe he should have left it alone, but he kind of felt bad for Harry. Zayn was supposed to be _with Harry_ not stuck in the back of a club making out with some other dude. If Zayn was going to go on being messed up and damaged and calling Louis at all hours of the day, Louis could at least call him on this. Because this was really a bit much.  

Zayn's gaze shot up to Louis then, but he was still kind of too drunk to react properly.  

"Jesus, Zayn," Louis scolded.  

"Louis," he said, pushing himself away from the guy, who looked positively gutted. Zayn stumbled in Louis' direction, hooking his arm around Louis' waist. That was too much. That was a definite line.  

"Stop it," said Louis, freeing himself from Zayn's grasp, "what the fuck, Zayn?" 

Zayn hiccupped loudly, but before he could say a word to explain himself, Niall draped an arm around Louis, "lads," he said, wrapping his second arm around Zayn's shoulder, "I'm gonna leave with this girl, if you want to share an Uber," 

 

Zayn was a proper fucking disaster and getting him out to said Uber was a lot more than Louis had bargained for. Zayn hadn't really said a word to him and Niall was quiet, too, favouring whispering things into the girl he was taking home's ear. Louis and Zayn were sat in the farthest row of seats in the van and Niall and the girl sat in the first row.  

All Louis wanted was to head back to Liam's but now he had to put Zayn to bed and that seriously sucked. He didn't know how long that was going to take but his hope was that he'd pass out before they even got to his flat.  

But Louis rarely got the things he wished for.  

Zayn rested his head on Louis shoulder and started mumbling things that he probably thought were very smooth, but Zayn had never been particularly great at dirty talk and adding a poisonous amount of alcohol kind of just made the whole thing embarrassing.  

Zayn's hands eventually joined in and he rubbed Louis' thigh suggestively. Louis swatted away his hands, trying to protect himself from Zayn's desperation. He definitely should have let Harry take Zayn home, but he'd felt so bad. He didn't want to run the risk that Harry might have found him snogging who knew who in the back of that club. And maybe that was a bit weird, but so was the whole bloody thing.  

Zayn dipped his head down and pressed his nose against Louis neck, and, no, Louis was not doing this. He was not going to sit in an Uber with Zayn while he fucking nuzzled him. He reached out and pushed him away.  

"Please," Zayn's voice was heavy and breathy and he sounded positively wrecked.  

"Just stop," Louis begged, trying to keep his voice down, because he didn't want Niall to worry that he couldn't handle it. He wanted his friend to enjoy the night.  

This time, Zayn's lips traced Louis neck slowly and deliberately. "Let me fix it," he whispered and Louis couldn't fucking believe he was here again. He felt bad for Zayn because these displays were becoming more and more pathetic as more time stretched between their end and now.  

Before he could process what was happening, Zayn's lips were all over his. And he was crying. Louis could feel Zayn's tears against his cheeks. His beard scraped against Louis' chin and his lips and this really needed to stop. He didn't give a fuck how hard Zayn was crying into him, this wasn't okay.  

He pushed Zayn back, wiping the spit from his lips with the back of his hand. Zayn was panting and staring at him, small sobs coming from his throat.  

"Jesus, Zayn," Louis growled, this time he was loud enough to make Niall turn. He didn't care, "how many places are you going to stick your tongue tonight? God, you're a fucking mess," 

   
 

 _5 months after_    
 

Louis was in the lift, on his way to Zayn's to drop off his rent cheque. He hadn't actually seen him since that night at the pub. Zayn had called him a few days later, apologizing for the whole thing and inexplicably trying to assure him he'd never done that when they were together. Like it made it okay for him to treat Harry that way, just because he'd never done it to Louis. Stupid boots or not, Louis felt bad for the lad. Harry probably still had no idea how messed up Zayn was.  

And if Louis was a little bit excited to knock on the door and fall into the same strange routine with Harry that they'd had for the past couple of months? Well, that was no one's business but his own.  

Except, this time it wasn't Harry that opened the door for him. It was Zayn and Louis hadn't really planned for that. Maybe by now Zayn had mostly forgotten Louis yelling at him. Maybe they were passed it. Zayn pulled the door the rest of the way opened and stepped back to let Louis in. He still hadn't said a word and Harley started jumping up at Louis and he bent down to pet her. Louis evaluated the flat, waiting for Harry to appear but he didn't.  

Louis got back up to his feet and stared at Zayn. Something was weird. Zayn was too quiet, too soft.  

"No Harry today?" Louis asked tentatively.  

Zayn shook his head but didn't say a word.  

Louis' eyes continued to scan the room until they finally fell on the stack of boxes in the living room. They said Louis' name on them. Alright. That's why Zayn was being so strange. He was packing Louis stuff and he must have felt bad about it or something. So Louis would have to be strong and show him he wasn't offended.  

And he wasn't—not _really_. It was just a little bit sad that after living here for nearly three years, he was really leaving. He and Zayn were really done and Zayn was finally ready to admit it. It was strange and bitter-sweet because as much as there had been a huge part of him that had been broken in this flat, there was also a huge part of him that had been happy here. 

"That's mine, I'm guessing," said Louis, pointing toward the pile of boxes.  

Zayn nodded once, still not saying a word and that was the moment Louis noticed that the stack with his name on them wasn't the only stack of boxes in the flat.  

Oh.  

Zayn was moving, too? They hadn't talked about this. But Louis had to remind himself that it wasn't his place to harbour that expectation anymore. He and Zayn weren't partners. They weren't anything anymore and it was weird for him. It made his insides burn a little.  

"Moving?" Louis asked, his voice not shaking, despite how his hands were.  

Zayn nodded once, "I was going to talk to you," 

Louis shook his head, "its fine," but it didn't _feel_ fine. But it had to be.  

"I," Zayn started, kind of staring at the floor, kind of at his hands, "I got the notice that our lease was up and," he huffed out a sigh, "I should have called you," pause. "But I didn't want to stay," 

 _He didn't want to stay_. Louis had been waiting five months to hear Zayn say anything close to that, but hearing the words made him feel ill. After everything—all the drunken phone calls, all the tears and the blame and the begging and the way he'd flaunted Harry at Louis, Zayn was finally done. And Louis should have been ecstatic. He'd stuck to it and even though it had been like dragging Zayn through 7 circles of hell, they'd made it. Louis had done it. He'd finally gotten Zayn to the other side. He was finally ready to let go.  

Louis was nodding but it was just automatic. He wasn't really processing things.  

Zayn inhaled deeply in an attempt to hide the shaking in his voice, "I don't want to stay here without you. If you wanted to come back, I'd keep the place," he met Louis' eyes, "but I didn't think you'd want to," 

Louis nodded, because as sad as it was to leave the real first home he'd ever had in London that he'd shared with the real first home he'd thought he'd found in a person, he didn't want to. He didn't want to live with Zayn here. He didn't want to live _without_ Zayn here. He wanted something new, something different and something that somehow might be better. No matter how scary getting there was going to be.  

 

The thirty minutes it took for Niall and Liam to arrive at Zayn's felt more like thirty hours. It had been less than a month since that night at the pub and somehow something had changed for real. He and Zayn felt like strangers and their life together felt like a distant memory, despite the fact that they were sitting smack dab in the middle of it, on the couch they'd financed together the year they'd finished uni. They were both rigid and kept stealing sideways glances at each other, without ever saying a word. It was awkward and that was strange because things between them had been a million different ways, but they'd never been _awkward._  

Eventually, though, Liam and Niall showed up to help Louis with his boxes. They made two trips down to Niall's car and then it was the last box. It was a very strange thing for Louis, coming to collect his last thing from his old life. Niall and Liam were waiting in the lobby, clearly sensing that saying goodbye to Zayn was something Louis had to do on his own.  

But, the thing was, he didn't want to do it on his own. 

No matter how long it had been over, and how awful a lot of the last few months had been, he loved Zayn. He'd always love Zayn but it would never be like it was. Part of Louis was happy that he'd finally gotten to a place where he wasn't resentful. He looked back on their life together fondly, because they'd had a lot of great times. When a person was your world for so long, what were you supposed to do with all of those feelings when it was over? Zayn felt like a giant elephant standing in the middle of the room that was Louis' brain. He took up so much space and it was impossible for him to hope to forget about him. Zayn would demand to be remembered, and Louis _wanted_ to remember him.  

Louis hovered in the doorway with the last box in his arms. Zayn was watching him, but he hadn't said a word. He hadn't made a single move and Louis wondered if this was really it. If Zayn was going to let him walk out the door without a single word. If, after the seven years he'd known Zayn, he was just going to walk away and be okay. If _Zayn_ was going to be okay—if Zayn was _ready_ to be okay.  

Louis looked around the flat, and he remembered the day they'd first come to see it. It was before things had started to decline. Before Louis had expressed his ambitions and before Zayn had shot them down. It had been before they'd broken those first few times, and miles away from the time they'd finally broken passed the point of repair. It was... _exhausting_. Louis remembered painting the walls and buying good silverware because his mum insisted that he and Zayn needed it. It was all the foolish little things that totalled up into the life they'd shared and it was like an emotional tsunami. Louis was on the verge of drowning in the memories, in their life.  

Harley was standing by his feet and that was kind of his breaking point. He didn't want to leave her. Tears started to build up in his eyes because it was all so much more real now. It had been different when this was still Zayn's place—when he was still entitled to drop by for visits to Harley and Harry, but now it wasn't Zayn's place. It wasn't _their_ place. It was just four walls that would soon be someone else's place. Their apartment got a reset button. The landlords would paint over the "Barbados Sand" colour he and Zayn had spent hours debating about with a fresh coat of eggshell, and just like that, all of their memories would be forgotten. It would be brand-new again, like they'd never even lived there— _loved_ there and... fuck. Louis was emotionally exhausted.  

And Zayn wasn't saying anything. Maybe this wasn't goodbye. Maybe there was still more of this awful pain to live through, and Louis wasn't sure if that was better or worse. He was so used to continuously existing in a world with Zayn that a big part of him thought that maybe it would be easier if they never got a final scene. Maybe they could just slowly grow apart while they fell in love with new people and started lives and had babies and never have to go through the pain of severing it all.  

But either way, Louis had to know. He need to hear Zayn. He needed to know what the next step was from here, so Zayn had to speak.  

"Well," said Louis, backing up one more step closer to the threshold, "that's the last of it, I guess," 

Zayn opened his mouth, but quickly shut it, nodding once, "yeah..." 

"Niall and Liam are waiting, I guess I should head down," said Louis, but his feet were planted to the spot. He didn't know if he could move. He was just testing to see how far Zayn would let him go, "I guess I'll see you around?" 

He hadn't meant for it to come out as a question, but it had and now he was forced to deal with the answer. Zayn shook his head slowly, like it weighed more than his neck could handle—and Louis knew that feeling. There was regret and trepidation in every action Zayn made and Louis hated it and he wished he could stop it, but he also knew that it wasn't his job anymore,  

"I don't think so," said Zayn. 

That hit Louis like a ton of bricks. He had expected that he would keep his composure perfectly in tact and that the tears he'd been harbouring behind his eyelids were for Harley—not Zayn. But he'd been wrong. No matter how little sense it made, he was hurt. And maybe he was well aware that it was all for the best and that he was going to grow and find someone who would give him the things he wanted, but right now he was frozen in between his past and the future he'd tried so hard, for so long, to convince Zayn existed. Now he felt like a phoney. He had no idea whether or not everything was going to be alright, and now he was forced to try and emulate the strength he'd been bluffing he had for months.  

But the strength was a long-lost and forgotten memory when he felt the first tear roll down his cheek. Now, after everything they'd been through, after all the nights he'd pledged to love Louis forever, Zayn told him they wouldn't be seeing each other around.  

Zayn saw the tear fall and it took him half a second before he took the box out of Louis' hand, dropped it on the floor and enveloped him into his arms.  

"Jesus, Louis, you can't do that," he said 

And it was just so fucking good to hear his voice, to feel his arms around him. He knew it then, even though it had taken an agonizing few months, Zayn was okay. He was going to keep being okay and Louis wasn't going to have any part in any of it. He was both burning with pride and drowning in emotions he didn't know what to do with. 

He remembered that night in the back of the Uber when he'd pushed Zayn off him and done everything he could to stay away from his physical affection and it was laughable now, because this was what he needed. He needed it to end like this, soft and comfortable and hopeful.  

Louis squeezed back tight enough that he felt his nails digging into Zayn's back, "I'm sorry,"  

Zayn pulled back and wiped the tears from Louis' eyes. Despite the fact that he was crying like a pre-schooler, Louis felt pretty okay. It was strange.  

"No, I'm sorry," said Zayn, "I'm sorry I couldn't give you the things you wanted. You deserve the world, Louis, and I can't give that to you, and I hated that, but you're gonna be okay," he breathed deeply, " _I'm_ going to be okay," 

Louis threw his arms back around Zayn and hugged him tightly again. This was different. Zayn was different and Louis was relieved, because Zayn had vehemently denied that he'd be okay for so long that Louis had almost begun to believe him. It was so good to hear it.  

"Thank you," Zayn spoke against Louis' hair, and Louis couldn't be quite sure, because he wasn't calibrated to feel Zayn's emotions anymore, but he thought maybe Zayn was crying too, "for giving me six amazing years. Thank you for loving me, and I'm sorry I ever doubted that. I know you loved me and I know I loved you and there's nothing to regret here, okay? We're gonna be okay," 

They pulled apart then, and Louis thought that maybe he should also say something deep and profound just to reassure Zayn, but he'd already said it all.  

"You're welcome," he said, reaching to pick up his box again, "we got lucky, yeah? Loving you was easy," 

Zayn nodded once and Louis turned to walk out of the flat. His foot only just hit the carpet in the hallway when Zayn called out to him.  

"Wait," he said. 

Louis turned around and met Zayn's eyes. 

"One more thing," Zayn's voice was scratchy. He was holding Harley's leash in his hand and it was attached to her collar. He reached the leash out to Louis.  

Louis nodded once and took the leash in his hand, giving Zayn's hand a soft squeeze as he took Harley, "Thank-you, Zee," 

"Goodbye, Louis," said Zayn, stepping back into the flat and shutting the door.  

 

 _Seven months after_  

 

The pub was loud, as it usually was. Louis was sitting at a booth with Niall and Liam and laughing at all their jokes. It had been awhile since Louis had gone out. He'd been working a lot of extra shifts recently, because since Harley had joined him, his apartment search had become more and more desperate. Finally, though, after weeks of trying to convince him, Niall had won and Louis had taken the weekend off.  

Friday nights at their favourite pub were always a lot more quiet than Saturdays. There was a live band playing and it was nice. He was glad to spend real time with his mates that didn't include sleeping on their couch and using their shower.  

"Next round is on me, lads," said Louis, getting up from the table and heading toward the bar.  

Louis was reminded, after being ignored for three whole minutes by the bartender, why he had grown to hate going out.  

"Marcus!" said a loud and familiar voice from behind him.  

The bartender, _Marcus_ , apparently, turned around and Harry moved to stand next to Louis. Harry wore the same kind smile Louis had learned to expect of him.  

"A Guinness, and whatever he's having," Harry said to the bartender and Louis repeated his and the lads' drink order and the Marcus took off to fill them.  

"How is it that you're so bad at ordering drinks, Louis?" Asked Harry with a dazzling smile that he tried to bite his lip to hide.  

"Guess I'm just not very good at getting people's attention," 

Harry's face had a pink flush to it, and if they were anywhere but the bar, Louis would have thought he was blushing, but he was probably just drunk. 

"I seriously doubt that's the problem," 

Niall and Liam hadn't mentioned anything about Zayn going out that night. Come to think of it, they hadn't mentioned anything about Zayn at all since they'd helped him move his things. There wasn't many people in the bar and Louis felt pretty certain that if Zayn was there, he'd probably know.  

Marcus returned then with their drinks. Harry grabbed his Guinness and one of the other three.  

"I'll help you carry them back," he offered.  

Harry had always been so bloody nice that it had confused Louis, but now there wasn't much to be confused about, he thought, because it all seemed genuine.  

So, he smiled and thanked him and lead the way to the table where Niall and Liam were waiting.  

When they got to the table, in typical Niall fashion, Niall yelled joyfully that Harry had to join them. Harry grinned ear to ear as he slid into the booth next to Louis. The conversation between the four of them was easy, just as Louis had always found it was around Harry. Harry was a people pleaser and Louis couldn't see him mucking up conversation with anyone. He was gifted.  

Liam and Niall left to get them new drinks once they'd reached the bottom of their glasses and that left Louis and Harry monopolizing one side of the booth and laughing about anything and everything.  

It was then that it dawned on Louis again that Harry was still sat at the table with him and he hadn't even mentioned getting back to his own friends _or_ Zayn. Louis was curious by nature. He would never pretend to be anything else.  

"Stag tonight?" He asked Harry.  

Harry's face showed no visible signs of distress, so the question couldn't have been too horribly intrusive. Or too embarrassing for Louis, because he really shouldn't have been asking about Zayn.  

But it didn't _feel_ like he was asking about Zayn. He felt weird and fluttery inside and the question felt much more like genuine interest in Harry.  

"Stag every night for the last couple of months," 

Oh. Even though he'd known from that first time he'd seen Harry that he and Zayn were doomed to fail, he still felt kind of bad about it. Maybe it was because he felt concerned that there was no one to take care of Zayn, or maybe it was because he wanted Harry to be happy. Louis wasn't sure about a lot of things.  

"Are you okay? Can I ask what happened?" 

Harry shrugged, reaching for his beer, which was now completely empty, "I'm fine," he said, and honestly, Louis' intuition was fantastic and Harry seemed fine, "I wasn't the one for him," 

There was some kind of weird lump in Louis throat and as his last beer started to settle into him, his body started to hum with the proximity to Harry's. Harry was sitting closer than when he'd sat down, Louis was pretty sure. Louis swallowed. 

"Was he the one for you?" 

He didn't know why, but he was anxious about how Harry was going to answer that.  

Harry shook his head in the negative, "nah," 

Louis exhaled, and he was pretty sure it was relief he felt.  

He nodded once awkwardly, "he wasn't for me either," 

What was this place he'd wound up with Harry? This strange moment they were in was enchanting and addictive and the sounds of the music pumping through the speakers made concentrating on anything other than Harry's leg's proximity to his leg impossible. It was very suddenly the only thing that Louis was aware of. Heat seemed to pour off of Harry's body and his gaze was intense and calculating and Louis lost himself. He didn't really know what he was feeling anymore. Was he just drunk? He didn't remember feeling this strange any other time he'd been drunk, but everything was so intense. Everything seemed to be so much heavier and deeper than it had ever been before that night. The music was clearer, the colours were brighter and he was so much more attuned to Harry's exact body temperature and the pattern of his breathing.  

And Harry was looking at him. Like, really _looking_ at him, like he could see everything Louis was thinking about and how in the fuck had they gotten here? 

Softly, Harry shuffled closer until his leg was pressed against Louis' leg and Louis felt like his head was spinning. He couldn't breathe. There wasn't enough air in the world for him to live in this moment. How had he ended up pressed against his ex-boyfriend's ex-boyfriend inside of a bar, and why on earth did it feel like the only place he ever wanted to be? 

Harry was about to say something, and Louis noticed then how close their faces were. This wasn't the proximity that most people had conversations in. He wondered what on earth Harry was going to say because his body language was giving Louis the spins. Maybe he was imaging the electricity and tension that flowed between them. He almost hoped he was because, really that would be a lot easier.  

And Louis was literally hanging on what Harry was about to say. He needed to _know_. He needed some kind of clue about what the fuck was happening.  

But before Harry's words came, Louis heard shuffling from across the table. Liam cleared his throat awkwardly, trying to subtly make his presence known and simultaneously ask what the fuck he was seeing. Louis wished he had a good answer for him.  

Niall, on the other hand was always less than subtle.  

"Sorry to interrupt, lads,"  

When Louis looked up to him, Niall winked suggestively. Was Niall picking up on something different than Louis was? Things were definitely strange between him and Harry, but what did that _mean_?  

He could still feel Harry's breath along his neck and it was _too much._   

Abruptly, he stood and brushed passed Harry, who put his fucking hand on Louis' thigh and looked up at him, concern sparkling in his eyes.  

"You okay?" 

Louis wished his whole body hadn't shivered at the tiny gesture, but things were already royally fucked, so what was one more thing? He nodded his head.  

"Just need a smoke," 

   
 

Louis had barely gotten 3 drags into his cigarette before he heard Harry's voice behind him.  

"Aren't you a nurse or something?" 

Despite how confused and jittery he felt, Louis smiled at the sound of Harry's voice.  

"Yep," he said, exhaling the smoke from his lungs.  

Harry was standing next to him now. It was cold out and Louis' fingers were frozen around his smoke, but he _needed_ it. He was a new level of stressed.  

"So, shouldn't you know how bad smoking is for you?"  

"Oh, I _know_ , but I'm trying out this whole bad-boy image," 

Harry huffed a small laugh, "sorry, I didn't realize," 

"You're forgiven," 

Louis didn't know why it felt so bloody good to laugh like this with Harry. Their jokes were refreshing and addictive and he loved the way Harry played back.  

They were both quiet for a moment before Louis had to break it. He didn't want to focus his attention on the physical tension between them. They needed to keep talking.  

"How has your night been, anyway?" He asked, stealing a quick glance at Harry (who was once again sneaking closer and closer to Louis).  

"Well, up until I found you, the highlight of my night was some charming gentleman asking me if I 'wanted to get drunk and fuck'," 

"And here I thought all the tact in the dating world was gone," 

Harry laughed again and it was such an honestly lovely sound that Louis had to look anywhere else. Naturally, his eyes drifted down to look for those god awful metallic boots, but they had been replaced. Now, Harry was wearing black boots with a red and white snake across the top of them. They weren't _as_ ugly, but they were definitely worth taking the piss out of him.  

"Hey woody?" 

Harry cocked and eyebrow at him, "it's, _Harry_ , have we met?" 

Louis laughed and it was so light and happy and playful that it took a half a second before Harry joined him, "There's a snake on your boot," 

He narrowed his eyes at Louis, "they're Gucci," there was a beat of silence while Harry waited for Louis reaction. Louis smacked him on the shoulder and muttered "idiot," under his breath. Harry's laughter was literally like music. He couldn't contain it for another second and Louis got lost. Completely lost in the notes of his laughter.  

As their chuckles came to a slow stop, Louis realized how small the space was between them. Maybe it was the joke. Maybe he just needed to feel alive and funny and wanted again, or maybe it was the beer.  Louis couldn't be sure, but it was like a magnet between them and it was so natural that Louis didn't have a chance to think about it. Their lips met and the world around them melted and pooled and then froze completely. Louis couldn't hear or think of or smell or _taste_ another thing. It was Harry. All Harry. 

Had that always been there?  

Harry's lips were slow and soft and Louis didn't think he'd ever tasted anything as sweet as Harry's breath. Louis couldn't really be sure who'd moved first. It had been so natural that there was no real way to analyse it. Louis hadn't even known how badly he wanted it until Harry's mouth had met his and his plush soft lips had parted against his own.  

Harry exhaled into Louis mouth and the sound he made drove Louis nearly to the point of insanity. It was then that he became more conscious of the whole thing. Harry seemed to follow suit because just as Louis' confidence grew, Harry parted his lips. The feeling of Harry's tongue against his was a bit more than he felt ready to handle. His head was spinning and he felt Harry's strong hand grip onto his hip and pulled him closer, his other hand tangled into the back of Louis' hair.  

Louis had no idea that a _kiss_ could ever feel this intense and intimate.  

And he lost it. Thank god that Harry wasn't wearing that fucking awful man-bun because Louis _had_ to bury his hands in his hair. He had to tug and pant and throw himself into Harry.  

He didn't imagine snogging Zayn's ex while half pissed in the freezing cold would somehow feel like the most intensely romantic thing in the universe, but Harry was kind of magic and Louis was kind of fucking happy he got to learn that. He also kind of never wanted it to end. There was a tension in him that craved more and there was a fire in his belly but he didn't mind it. He didn't mind that Harry kept building it slower and slower because while it drove him half insane, it was incredible.  

Suddenly Louis let out a gasp as he felt his back hit a brick wall. Harry was pressing him against the building and kissing him and he didn't think he'd actually taken a breath in longer than he could remember, but maybe he was just breathing Harry now. Maybe air was never going to be enough again.  

He was making all kinds of sounds against Harry's mouth as their lips brushed together that he'd previously only saved for the bedroom. They were sounds of open desperation and he would normally have been embarrassed showing, but he felt safe there, between the wall and Harry. Funny, innit? 

Their kiss was reaching a fever-pitch and Louis could feel Harry's chest against his chest, Harry's hip against his hip and their noses rubbed together aggressively and it just kept going deeper and deeper and Louis was going to drown.  

And he was going to die happy.  

It ended abruptly. Too abruptly for Louis' taste and he let out another whimper as he tried to chase Harry's lips.  

Fuck, Harry was fucking adorable and it was going to honestly kill Louis. Harry pressed his nose against Louis' jaw and kissed his neck softly, his arms still wrapped tightly around Louis and fuck. It didn't feel like some desperate need to fuck. It felt sweet and kind and romantic and Louis hadn't even known those were things he wanted, but Harry made his skin do tricks. There was a deep ache in his chest because it felt like everything was okay and Louis hadn't felt that for a long time.  

Then, finally he heard Harry's voice and he had no idea how much he'd missed his slow, deep drawl until he felt it against is neck, 

"I'm sorry, Lou," 

That was maybe the last thing Louis had expected to hear him say. Louis tugged at the base of Harry's hair until he looked up at him. Louis wanted to laugh, wanted to take the piss out of Harry for apologizing but things between them were so perfect and soft that he really couldn't risk killing the moment.  

"Sorry for what?" 

Harry's hands seemed to hold him tighter, like he was afraid Louis was going to bolt. But, truth was, Louis was more likely just bolted to the ground. He was at the mercy of Harry and he hoped against hope that Harry was okay with that fact.  

"Sorry, if I started that and it wasn't okay. Was it weird?" 

Harry bit his lip and he was smiling at Louis again. He was always doing that. Always trying to hide he smile and Louis didn't know whether it was the most adorable possible thing or the most annoying possible thing. Maybe a bit of both.  

"Everything you do is weird, Curly," started Louis and Harry but his lip harder as his smile grew, "that was at the bottom of the list. Also maybe _I'm_  sorry. I might have started it," 

This time, Harry released his lip and for one fleeting second Louis got to see his smile for real and he realized the just how gorgeous Harry was. He'd been so distracted by everything else, but he was starting to see it all now. Hipster Harry wasn't so bad. He wasn't bad at all actually. He was fucking beautiful and funny and brave and... 

He was kissing Louis again.  

He broke the kiss briefly and Louis got that empty feeling again. That was until he heard Harry's voice, speaking as he laid more kisses against Louis' neck.  

"I take it back," he said, warm breath exhaling from his nose directly into Louis ear. Shivers ran down Louis' spine, "I'm _not_ sorry," 

There were small beads of sweat against the back of Harry's neck where Louis still desperately gripped his hair. The smell of Harry was heavy and musky and intoxicating and all he could think about was how good Harry's skin would feel against his. Fuck clothes. They really had no place here.  

"Good," said Louis, tilting his head in hope of catching Harry's lips again, "because I'm _really_ not sorry either," 

... 

Since he and Zayn had ended, a lot of things in Louis' life hadn't made much sense. Even though, he'd always felt confident in his decision, he'd still felt like he was in some kind of weird limbo, and probably a lot of that had to do with the fact that he'd literally been drifting from couch to couch for seven months. Even his mother had been begging him to give up and come home. But he consistently felt like something good was going to happen. He just had to wait for his moment. At first glance, Louis was really no catch. He had a whole lot of cleaning up and polishing left to do, and that had made him feel inadequate and insecure and pathetic for a long time. 

But Harry made him feel quite the opposite. It wasn't just that Harry made him feel okay to not have it together, it was that Harry made him feel like maybe he _did_ have it together. For honestly the first time since he'd packed a duffle bag and crashed on Niall's couch the first night he'd left Zayn, he felt worthy and normal.  

And there was something strangely refreshing to know that Harry knew everything—probably more than Louis wanted to imagine—but he still wanted it. It wasn't anything like desperation on Harry's part. It wasn't just because Louis was there and available. Harry was sweet and genuine and he made Louis feel better than okay. He made him feel wanted and Louis hadn't known just how great of a desire that feeling had been for him.  

Louis had never been the type of person that did one night stands. He'd never been successful at it, and at the very least, every single person he'd slept with had stuck around long enough for a repeat performance or two. So, maybe it was a bit odd that Louis felt no qualms at all about getting into a cab with Harry and spending the night at his place. It seemed pretty natural and he hadn't even tried to play it off as cheap when Harry had asked.  

And Harry wasn't tacky about it, either. He hadn't worked Louis up in the cab—hadn't cheapened things at all, really. He'd paid the driver and _held Louis' hand_ while they got onto the elevator. Hand-holding probably wasn't standard one-night-stand procedure, Louis felt pretty sure (but, again, he was no expert). Instead of a steamy heated display in the lift up to his flat, Harry had favoured playing with Louis' hair, kissing his cheeks softly and tracing the lines on Louis' palm with the pads of his fingers.  

"I'm no expert," Harry said, dragging his finger across one of the lines, "but I think this one means you have an awful fashion sense," 

"Oi!" Louis said ripping his hand away and laughing at how foolish and childish Harry could be at the same time as sexy and romantic.  

Harry giggled, proper, like a small child, and grabbed Louis' hand again, kissing his palm. 

And, okay, Louis was kind of done for. He didn't know how any of this was going to play out, but he had a huge ball of nerves in the pit of his stomach because he honestly didn't know what he would do when it ended. He didn't know how he was going to convince himself to be okay with one night.  

But it was going to happen. There wasn't a force in the world that was going to tear him out of that lift without at least a glimpse of something more from Harry.  

The lift chimed as they reached Harry's floor and instead of dropping Louis' hand, he clung tighter to it and wound his fingers through Louis. He laid one soft his between the base of Louis' jaw and his neck and goosebumps appeared clear-across Louis' body. Before he could take a moment to analyse just how responsive he was the Harry, Harry pulled him along down the hallway. Finally, he stopped in front of one of the doors and pulled out his keys. As he fiddled with the lock, Louis took a moment to set his expectations. A huge part of Louis expected that Harry's flat would reflect the hipster parts of him. He imagined a huge shelf full of records and furniture from the nicest stores. It was probably going to be too immaculate for Louis to even exist in, and he was willing to bet that his home was going to just be further proof to Louis that they were nothing alike. That they were a stranger than strange pairing that would make anyone else question whatever it was that was happening between them. 

But they weren't _really_ a pairing, were they? 

Louis didn’t like that thought and, even more than he didn't like it, he was scared about _why_ he didn't like it. Why did Harry suddenly have to much weight in his life?  

Harry pushed open the door then and pulled Louis in along with him. As the door shut behind them, Louis was quite honestly shocked with what he saw. He could have been standing in his Nan's house, because it was just _that_ tacky. There was nothing there that was under 5 decades old. His sofa was floral and skirted and the loveseat didn't even match, in fact it was a completely different floral pattern. There was also one _horrendous_ pink velour chair in the corner. The whole room smelled of Scentsy and like the classics section of a library. It was strange and nothing like that trendy hipster vibe that Louis had read off of Harry. Then again, though, Louis had been pretty quick to form opinions about Harry that weren't entirely true. The focal point of the whole living space though, were the floor to ceiling shelves that were half full of books and half full of, what appeared to be, hundreds of ceramic salt and pepper shakers. 

He wanted to hate it. He wanted to be able to find the whole display something less than endearing, but everything about Harry was adorable and quirky and only Harry Styles could pull off hoarding salt and pepper shakers.  

It was all great, especially the way Harry had wrapped his arms around Louis from behind, holding him securely by the waist. He rested his head on Louis' shoulder and placed another kiss on his neck. And then, from behind the pink chair, a grey blur darted toward them. It was a tiny cat with big yellow eyes and Louis shook his head disapprovingly.  

"You're a cat person?" He tried to sound as disappointed as he could. 

Harry had let him go and was walking toward the fridge where he was pulling out a Brita pitcher (of course he was getting water and not a drink—Harry was strange). He was smiling at Louis while he poured two glasses of water and brought them over.  

"I'm verse," he said, and there was just a touch of wickedness underneath the innocent smile he was trying to pull off.  

Louis took the glass from him and laughed heartily, "I beg your pardon?" 

Harry just shrugged as he brought his glass to his lips, taking a small sip. Louis' eyes didn't leave him, "bit of this, bit of that. I'm not picky, I like to switch it up," 

"So you're just a part-time cat person, then?" Louis could play along. 

Harry bit his lip, trying again to hide his crooked smile from Louis, "It just depends on the situation. I like to keep my options open, you never know, Louis. It's good to be versatile," 

Louis felt his face flushing, but it wasn't scary around Harry, "Why do I get the feeling you're not talking about cats?" 

Harry shrugged, taking another sip of his water.  

Louis met his eyes this time, "me too," he said, as Harry took the glass out of his hand.  

Harry set both of the glasses on an end table that had—oh, _god_ —a _doil_ _y_ on it. Louis wanted to take the piss out of Harry for about the millionth time that night, but before he got the chance Harry's face was in front of his. Slowly, Harry's hands took a firm hold on Louis' hips. He pulled them close together, but instead of crushing Louis' lips with his own, he favoured an intense sort of eye contact that made Louis blush as Harry slowly slid his hands beneath Louis' shirt. His fingertips left trails of goosebumps wherever he dragged them. Eventually, Harry's nails dug into the bare skin of Louis' back and Louis was going to lose his mind if he didn't say something, or if Harry didn't act quickly or break his gaze. Slowly, Harry's fingers dipped lower and flirted with the waistband of Louis' trousers. Louis' breath hitched and all of his desperation was evident in the sound. He felt his cheeks flaming with blush and he was desperate to take back control and reign in his vulnerability.  

"Thought you didn't want to get drunk and fuck?" 

Harry's hands froze and Louis kind of regretted his clumsy words. Without taking his eyes off of Louis', Harry pulled the Adidas jumper over Louis' head and suddenly things were very real. There was no lusty haze clouding any part of Louis vision and it was just him, standing there in front of Harry and he was _exposed_ now and it felt like more than being partly naked. It felt like Harry was seeing a lot more than he possibly could with his eyes. It was frightening and comforting all at the same time. Harry leaned into him and placed kisses across Louis collar bones along each word that was written there. _It is what it is,_ had become a mantra for him when things had first started falling apart in his life. Now, even though things had mostly stopped falling, it still always felt relevant to remind himself that things were as they were and he couldn't always change it.  

And this time, he really didn't want to.  

"I don't want to fuck you, Louis," said Harry. His voice was rough and raspy and it really wasn't doing much for Louis' sanity when Harry started to kiss from his collarbone up his neck and along his jaw-line, "I just want to make you feel good. Let me take care of you?" 

It was a question that really only had one answer that Louis could justify, "yes," he said, wrapping his arms around Harry's neck and finally returning his lips to the only place they wanted to be. Harry kissed him back without hesitation.  

... 

"Lou?" 

Harry's voice broke through the sleepy haze that Louis was in. He was exhausted. They hadn't slept at all and the sun was coming up. He didn't think he even had enough energy left in his body to move his head enough to look at Harry. Harry didn't seem to suffer the same affliction, though. Louis was on the verge of passing out in Harry's bed, his face buried completely in the pillow and his limbs sprawled out around him in a way that wasn't particularly comfortable, but he honestly couldn't even consider movement. He was face first in the bed, flattened on his stomach and Harry was still awake and moving and talking and maybe Louis ought to consider working out, if only for the fact that he kind of wanted to be able to keep pace with Harry (he'd never admit that out loud though). 

"Mmm," was all he managed, and he heard Harry chuckle softly from behind him.  

Harry moved closer to him then, snuggling into him from behind. He draped one of his legs between Louis' and wrapped his arm around Louis' torso. It was cute. Harry did cute well. He kissed the back of Louis shoulder and started toward his neck. Louis groaned.  

"Give me a break, would you? You're literally trying to sex me to death," 

Harry's small chuckles always made Louis smile, even though the slightest movements felt impossible.  

"Don't you want to die happy?"  

Harry's breath on his neck was really doing nothing to stop the confusion that was happening in Louis body. He wanted it—he wanted so much more of Harry than he'd already seen ( _four_ _times_ Harry had come that night _—_ _four—_ Louis couldn't even imagine), but his body was spent. He had nothing left to give and the whole idea just seemed painful... but the shivers running down his spine—it was _confusing_.  

"I'd prefer not to die at all, if I've got the choice," 

Louis felt Harry rest his head on the pillow next to him. It was nice. It was a level of comfort he'd forgotten to even want that Harry gave to him. He felt safe and accepted wrapped up in his arms, which was strange given that he should have seen Harry like a stranger, because regardless of the countless times they'd met before that night and the conversations they'd had in Zayn's flat, this was the first time they'd really _been_ together. It shouldn't have felt like they'd been doing it for years. But it did, and Louis hadn't expected it. He didn't really know how to keep pace with the things fluttering around in his heart and chest. Maybe he was a bit bad at this whole thing—it had been so many years since he'd been with someone new and he couldn't be sure if he was doing it right.  

Harry was silent for a long time, and Louis really wanted to ponder the meaning of the whole thing a bit more, but he was drained. He could feel Harry's breath on the back of his neck and he'd been right about how good their skin felt together. Louis was always freezing and Harry's skin seemed to have a warmth to it that warmed him from the inside out. Louis hadn't realized how much he needed to just be held until Harry happened. There was a level of comfort there that wasn't supposed to exist with a stranger, but Louis didn't mind, and Harry didn’t seem to mind, so he let it be. He let the heat from Harry's body and the comfort of being held pull him closer to sleep. The sun was coming up, and normally he could never sleep when there was light, but this was a new level of exhaustion and he was more than able to make exceptions. He was right on edge of dipping into unconsciousness when he heard Harry's soft whisper.  

"Lou?" 

"Mmm," was all he was able to answer with, still hoping for sleep above anything else.  

"I was thinking..." 

Louis wanted to turn over so he could properly roll his eyes at Harry, but movement was too much, so he just groaned, "Christ, Harry, its half seven and you came _four_ times. Aren't you tired?" 

Harry squeezed him tighter and Louis could actually feel his cheeks as they smiled against the bare skin of his back, "yeah, but," he kissed Louis' shoulder softly, "I just don't want tonight to end," and Louis sensed the vulnerability, there within Harry's statement. For the first time since he'd gotten Louis and the lads drinks that night, he seemed uncertain, and Louis really couldn't have that.  

"And why is that?" 

Harry contemplated his answer for moment, and Louis wasn't quite sure what Harry was thinking, but he felt scared. Despite the fact that he hadn't loosened his hold on Louis at all, Louis was still hanging on whatever answer it was that harry was about to say.  

"Because it's been perfect. You're perfect and I just really don't want things to change," 

Alright, well, as tired as Louis was, he really couldn't let Harry indulge that level of foolishness. Miraculously, Louis found enough strength to turn over so that his face was next to Harry's on the pillow. Harry watched him closely.  

"Harry," he said, as Harry snaked his legs between Louis and adjusted so that he was holding him properly again, "I hate to be the one that breaks it to you, but the sun's up. The night is already over," Harry looked at Louis and his emotion was heavy, Louis rushed to find more words to fix his expression, "the only thing that's changed is that I feel pretty confident you're secretly a sadist and you want to fuck me to death, but, hey, no one's perfect," Harry's smile was too small, still, so Louis pushed his hair out of his face and ran his fingers over his jaw and leaned in to lay one chaste kiss on his perfect, soft lips, "now, please, for the love of all things holy, _let me sleep_ ," 

Harry nodded and smiled. 

Louis exhaled in relief and turned back over onto his stomach. He shoved his face in the pillow and finally, closed his eyes waiting for the promised sleep. But something was missing. 

"Harold?" 

"Mmm," 

"Snuggle me," 

Harry laughed properly this time and Louis felt him drape his legs around him and he wrapped his arms tightly around Louis' body. Harry buried his face against Louis' neck and shoulder and kissed his skin softly one time before he settled in.  

"Goodnight, Lou,"  

… 

Louis opened his eyes and was surprised to find that he was alone in Harry's bed. It was Sunday, and he'd meant to head back to Niall's yesterday night... but Harry was distracting and convincing and Louis was honestly, pretty willing to cave at even the smallest request. He was face down in the pillow again, his blankets pushed off because Harry kept his flat toasty at all times. He was naked and comfortable and it was just really nice to wake up like this. He was still mostly lost in the haze of sleep and he didn't hear Harry come back into the room until he felt his weight on the bed. Louis let out a happy sigh and hugged into his pillow. Harry was a morning person, Louis had picked up on that quickly, but he wasn't willing to adjust to that. Generally, on weekends off, Louis woke up at least six times before he actually woke up. This was just wake up number one and Harry's alarm clock said that it was just passed nine, and that was _not_ sleeping in.  

But, he found himself much more awake when he felt Harry's lips softly kissing the dimples at the bottom of his back. Softly, Harry ran his hands along the curve of Louis bum, and okay, Louis was awake. Harry kissed him softly up his spine until he reached Louis' neck.  

"You up?" He asked, whispering into Louis' ear.  

"Still debatable," he said as he rolled over to kiss Harry softly.  

"Good enough," said Harry, "I wanted to take you for breakfast, get dressed," 

They were both aware of the big black cloud that was hanging over this day. It was Sunday and that meant that things were going to go back to normal tomorrow and whatever routine they'd established over the last two nights was going to be royally fucked when Louis went back to 12 hour shifts at the hospital and Harry went back to whatever it was he did at Gucci ( _shopping,_ Louis reckoned, was mostly what he did there). It was a bit disappointing, and Louis didn't get many weekends off, so he didn't know when he'd ever get a chance to devote two whole days and nights to Harry.  

He _wanted_ to, though. That felt important.  

"It's only nine," whined Louis, "you can't expect me to have an appetite before its even a proper hour to be awake," 

Harry laughed as he kissed Louis again, "I've been up for two hours and I'm craving eggs benny, please get up Louis," 

Dramatically, Louis rolled himself back over and covered his head with the pillow. Harry huffed out an annoyed sigh and started to tickle Louis—and that was just evil. Louis rolled into a ball and tried to protect himself, but fuck it, he was awake now. He pushed Harry off of him and rolled back over to face him, laughter still falling from both of their mouths.  

"Morning people are the worst," teased Louis.  

But that wasn't really true, because after they'd fallen asleep on Saturday morning, Harry had woken him up again before noon with a blowjob. Even though he'd sworn up and down that Harry was trying to kill him with sex, he'd managed to come twice before they fell asleep until two. Maybe he could get used to mornings that involved Harry. Maybe.  

The thing was, he could easily have gotten used to so much more than mornings with Harry, because once they woke up again at two yesterday, Harry had made them a full English while Louis had showered. Sitting at the table with Harry and eating breakfast was just as nice as falling asleep wrapped up in him. Harry had played footsies with him the entire time and they'd smiled at each other over steaming mug of tea after steaming mug of tea. Of course, Harry _had_ done one completely inexcusable thing to their breakfast.  

 _Louis had followed his nose into the kitchen and been excited at the smell of eggs and toast and bacon, but when Harry had placed the plate in front of him, there was one giant crime against the British crown blobbed in the middle of his plate. He'd picked up a piece with his fork and shoved the fork into Harry's face._  

 _"What in the name of Queen Elizabeth is_ this _?" He demanded._  

 _Harry laughed like he'd done nothing wrong, but there was no way anyone could be so oblivious. "Kale," he_ _shrugged._  

But, they'd managed to recover from the mishap and made the rest of the day much better. Harry had dragged Louis to one of his favourite shops around the corner. Unsurprisingly, the shop was an antique store, and although Louis took the piss out of him saying it smelled like his Nan's basement, it was nice. He'd even found a pineapple salt and pepper shaker set that he insisted on buying for Harry. They'd picked up chips and cheese on their way back to Harry's flat and snogged through most of the movie they tried to watch. And, so, for the first time in a long time, maybe ever, really, Louis was regretful that he didn't have every single Saturday ever to spend with Harry. But, he did have Sunday. 

Harry pinched Louis' cheek, "come on, Lou, get dressed, eat eggs with me," 

… 

After they'd finished their breakfast, which had included the same amount of under the table footsies and over-steaming-mug smiles, they'd started to walk around. Harry held Louis' hand tightly, as had become their norm. They didn’t really have any purpose or direction, they just kept walking and laughing about anything and everything. It was all so easy and seamless. Wherever Louis ended, Harry seemed to begin and as much as Louis wanted to be frightened by that, he really wasn't.  

They were stopped at a crosswalk and Harry bent down to kiss the top of Louis' head. Even though, all of these tiny actions were becoming normal, Louis still felt his whole face and neck flush.  

"What should we do today, Lou?" He asked as they heard a near-by clock strike noon.  

"Whatever you want to do, baby," 

And once the words were out of his mouth, Louis felt himself flush deeper. He hadn't said anything like that before. Harry hadn't either. They hadn't really talked about whatever it was that was happening here and Louis suddenly felt a whole lot worse than naked, because what if Harry didn't feel the same things? What if it was just a weekend fling and he hadn't planned on ever seeing Louis again afterward. Louis cleared his throat awkwardly, wanting to pass it off as normal. Not wanting to acknowledge how much he actually _meant_ it and wanted it. He wanted Harry—all of him and that probably wasn't normal, but he couldn't help it.  

Harry was looking at him with that same level of seriousness he'd had when he told Louis he didn't want things to change. Oops, well, Louis had changed them, hadn't he?  

 _Fuck._  

Harry inhaled slowly, tightening his grip on Louis hand and staring deeply into his eyes, "you shouldn't say that unless you mean it," 

There was a huge lump in Louis' throat that made it really hard for him to ask the next question, "and what if I _do_ mean it?" 

Harry's grin could have broken the hearts of millions of people around the world. It was perfect and it unleashed a whole hoard of butterflies in Louis stomach, "I would say that you should know that _I_ know I come on strong," he started, "but I always give things my all and I always dive in head first. It's just the kind of person I am, and I can't be anything less," he took Louis' other hand into his free one and pressed their foreheads together, "but you should also know that I already took that dive, Louis. I'm already all in it," 

And then they kissed soft and slow as the street light changed and people pushed passed them and everything was alright.  

… 

"Lou?" said Harry, as he took a forkful of korma off of Louis' plate. 

Louis jabbed the back of Harry's hand playfully with the tip of his own fork, "what do you want, you rotten thief?" 

Harry laughed again, and Louis had decided most assuredly that making Harry laugh was officially his favourite thing ever. He also liked sitting on Harry's atrocious floral sofa while watching bad zombie movies on Netflix and eating takeaway Indian. Sunday had easily begun to rival Saturday, even though Louis had previously been convinced that it was impossible.  

"I was just thinking..." Harry trailed off and looked away from Louis to stare at his plate. 

"Dangerous thing, that," mumbled Louis, picking up on Harry's nerves.  

It took Harry a second before he started again, "have you found a place, yet?" 

Louis didn't know where he _wanted_ the question to go, but he answered it anyway, "not yet," 

Harry bit his lip, but this time he wasn't hiding a smile, he was actually nervous and that just added to Louis' nerves, "Well, I thought maybe," he braved a glance up to Louis and tried to smile, but his nerves were evident in the gesture, "if you wanted, you could just stay here," 

Maybe that had been exactly what Louis had been hoping to hear. He couldn't be quite sure, but it didn't really make sense. He wasn't supposed to want that, and Harry wasn't supposed to either. There was some sort of timeline that people normally followed before this kind of conversation, Louis was aware of that. Most of all though, he really didn't want it to be something that Harry was offering just because he felt bad that Louis _still_ didn't have his own flat. He wanted it to be real, and when Louis didn't understand something, it was easiest to make a joke.  

"Sure you've even got room for a flatmate? I mean between the ugly boots and antiques, where would I even keep me scrubs?" 

Harry's face fell a bit at Louis' words, "I'm not asking you to be my _flatmate,_ Louis," he said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

"Oh," said Louis and the only thing that was happening inside of his head was an endless loop of _yesyesyes_ _,_ but he tried to keep it together, because maybe this wasn't the kind of decision two people made on the second full day they'd ever spent together over takeaway containers of Indian.  

Harry wasn't even looking at Louis anymore. He was staring at the floor and he looked positively heartbroken. Louis hadn't even given him a real answer, but he could see that Harry was convinced he'd said no, which, by rights maybe would have made sense? But nothing about them made sense.  

Louis put down his food and reached his hand out to Harry's. He tugged on it and waited for Harry's eyes to leave the ground. His face was red, and Louis could tell he was embarrassed and the guilt Louis felt was horrible.  

"Hey," he said, using his free hand to lift Harry's chin, "I didn't say no, Harold, I'm just asking clarifying questions," he said, smiling as Harry's eyes finally met his. 

"Right," said Harry, nodding quickly, his vigour renewed, "well, your stuff would go with my stuff. Ugly Vans next to ugly Gucci," Harry smiled crookedly and Louis laughed.  

"This is a bit mad, though, isn't it? Like hyper speed or something," 

Harry gave his now famous shrug, "you need a place, and you'd just end up here eventually, I don't see the point in analysing it," 

"So you don't think it's stupid?" 

"I think everything about love is a little bit stupid, but that's kind of the best part. I want to be stupid with you," 

And just like that, Harry blew open the walls Louis had created for himself. Suddenly his world was bigger, there was more space and there was no structure to hold his emotions. It didn't matter that Zayn was an elephant of a memory, monopolizing six years of his existence, because Harry had given him the entire world. An elephant sized memory was nothing in the grand scheme of his life. Harry had somehow, in less than three days, given him everything he needed to blend the old parts of his life with the new parts. 

And they were going to be okay.  

And Harry loved him.  

And, fuck the rest of the world, because it _didn't_ make sense, but it also didn't have to because they could not make sense together. They could be stupid together.  

Harry was watching him, waiting for an answer, "so, we're in love then," Louis asked. Harry had said the word, but Louis needed the clarification.  

Harry nodded one time, like it was the most logical thing he'd ever tried to explain to anyone, "I think we might be," 

"And we're stupid," 

Harry grinned, "as dumb as they come," 

Louis kissed him then. It was the second time in his life that Louis had fallen in love, but he couldn't help that think that he was doing a much better job this time around.


End file.
